


All I've ever known (goodbyes)

by captain_emmajones



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, BOTH, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6656272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_emmajones/pseuds/captain_emmajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the promo for 5x20 because i’m ruined and therefore i had to share my pain with you guys. (Also beware of some language sorry) "She has never known how to say goodbye. People had never given her the honor to say those words, they had just left. After a little while, one begins to understand that maybe one isn’t worth a goodbye at all."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I've ever known (goodbyes)

“I don’t know how to say goodbye.”

The words escape Emma’s mouth without a warning, and they sting. They are painful, they taste awfully bitter and they make her eyes water in an instant.

Breath caught in her throat, she watches her love, Killian, take her hand in his, his so warm hand despite being dead, or maybe it’s the fact that hers is frozen, and he presses a kiss on her knuckles.

* * *

 

She has never known how to say goodbye.

People had never given her the honor to say those words, they had just left.

After a little while, one begins to understand that maybe one isn’t worth a goodbye at all.

* * *

 

Yet, Snow White does articulate those words over her tiny body wrapped in a blanket where her name is written.

Baby Emma will remember for a long time the pressed hands on her body, the warm blast of air on her forehead, and the rainy kiss on her skin.

She won’t recall the words though, she was too young.

Yet, Snow White does murmur in a breath : “Goodbye, Emma.”

* * *

 

Many people must have said goodbye to her in her childhood, August, her first foster home, but she has no memory of it.

It’s later, when she can make souvenirs, that people decide that she just isn’t worth the trouble.

* * *

 

She learns tiny bits of French in elementary school and she likes the idea behind their goodbye.

French people do not say “goodbye” which sounds awfully like “have a great departure”.

They say “au revoir”. They do not mean goodbye, they mean “until we meet again”.

(She knows she’s an utopian. Obviously French people do mean goodbye when they murmur au revoir, they have forgotten the meaning behind the words.)

* * *

 

With Lily, it’s different.

“Emma ! EMMA !”

She keeps walking, back facing her friend, chin raised, tears in her eyes but still terribly proud.

She’s the one this time who doesn’t give a proper goodbye.

She had never imagined that giving up on someone would hurt this much, she always thought the one leaving had the easiest job.

Still, when she feels like suffocating, a drop rolling on her teenage cheek, she suddenly wonders the damage she must have cause to so many people.

* * *

 

Neal’s first goodbye is an _I love you_ , and she finds that those ones are the cruelest.

It burns her skin and leaves a permanent mark on her heart.

It leaves her mind lost, makes her overthink at night, questions that seem to strangle her in her sleep.

* * *

 

The first time Emma says goodbye, she doesn’t say it.

There are too many people in the room where she gave birth, and she wants her baby to be the only one able to hear it.

So she closes her eyes as they take away her child, she closes them the hardest she can, and she screams the thought in her head.

“Goodbye my little love, and may the French be right.”

* * *

 

At the town line in Storybrooke, when her memories are about to be stolen, she can’t bring herself to say goodbye either.

Especially to him.

She blames the tender blue of his eyes, the melancholy in those resigned oceans, the love she distinguish in the lonely, yet so beautiful, smile.

She’s suddenly struck by the need to touch him, to feel the hardness of his scurf under her fingertips, and the softness of the skin of his lips.

(She stays as far as she can handle it.)

“There’s not a day that will go by that I won’t think of you.”

Her heart is about to pierce through her ribcage, and she’s pretty sure the devotion is palpable in the deep green of her eyes. And then she gives him a word, just one.

“Good.” Her lips curl slowly, a devastating smile splitting her face open.

(Ah, the courage to make this step towards him, to press her face in the warmth of his neck, and never let go.)

* * *

 

Neal’s last goodbye isn’t to her, it’s to his father, and she’s not even able to say the words.

Nonsense is floating from her lips, some blurry Neal Neal Neal, and she hates herself because what is she worth if she can’t even articulate a word ?

How can one think about the right words when one’s teenage dream is dying ?

(Been dead for a long time, it’s just that having his lifeless body between her arms makes it all a little bit too real.)

* * *

 

Killian dies three fucking times and she stills doesn’t say the words.

For a quite simple reason : she dares him to leave her.

She’d bring him from death with her bare hands.

Which ultimately she does.

* * *

 

“Emma, love, listen to me.”

Brought back from her memories, she looks up to Killian, and Killian has teary eyes and what the hell is she supposed to do if he’s crying too.

She feels like all life is slowly extracted from her body, and her hand rapidly cups his cheek.

“This isn’t farewell,” he finally murmurs, and the tears drowning the blue of his eyes are there to refute his words. “We will meet again.”

She shakes her head, lips pressed and bitten, heart at the edge of her mouth.

“This is too dangerous, Emma. I can’t…” She can almost feel his struggle as his hand grips her palm tighter. “...I can’t take the risk that I might damn you to a life of nothingness just for me to live.”

Tears are running on her face, she doesn’t even try to hold them back anymore, and she’s soon sobbing. She doesn’t care. This isn’t fair.

“Do you understand me, Swan ?”

Each one of his words are knives in her heart and the love she has for him is making her stifle. Still she nods, because of course she understands him, she wouldn’t risk his life for hers.

Coming back to her senses, she takes her courage in both hands and breath in deeply.

He, more than anyone else, deserves her goodbye.

Bringing his hand towards her, she plays with the calloused fingers, eyes voluntary not on his.

“I studied French for a little while in elementary school, Killian, “ she starts, unable to look at him. “And they have this funny way to bid farewell. They -,” A sob cuts her, and she raises a chin, just a little bit, to clear her vision, tears rolling on the sides of her face. “...they do not say goodbye like us, they say “until we meet again” and therefore I will not say goodbye to you Killian Jones.”

She forces herself to gaze at him this once, and she regrets it the second she catches the devastation in his oceans. Somethings breaks in her in a disgusting sound.

She takes a moment to recompose herself, closing her eyes for a second.

“I love you, Killian. You shouldn’t forget that, pirate.”

The nickname sounds like an open wound, and the smile on her face is screaming for mercy.

The next second he crashes his lips against hers, his arms wrapping themselves around her broken body. They pour all their love is this one simple act, and at first, they do not catch the warmth suddenly encircling them.

They are so lost in each other that they do not feel the pulse of energy radiating from them. They can only taste each other in their embrace.

Eyes still firmly closed, she gives up his lips for the security of his arms, and breathes in slowly. She smells fresh grass, and flowers about to bloom, and an air suddenly so much purer.

“Emma.”

The mortified whisper comes from Killian, and she lifts her eyelids.

What she sees then stops her heart, and to be sure she’s not hallucinating she looks up at the sky.

She finds it as blue as her lover’s eyes, and she knows they are back home.

Shifting, she faces his handsome face, and eventually she discerns the slight movement of his chest. Her hand instinctly finds his heartbeat.

“Looks like we can cross the “Till death do us apart” from our vows, isn’t Swan ?” he jokes lovingly.

She stares at him for a few seconds.

“Oh, you fucking _alive_ bastard.”


End file.
